And it’s just my luck that that’s exactly who I’m seated next to during my test-induced panic attack. Control your breathing, Mia. He’s going to think you’re a freak!
Breath and exhale. That used to do the trick before a test in junior high. But between my anxiety about x and y and the jitters that overcome my body every time I’m within ten feet of Noah—breathing techniques mean squat right now.
“Are you okay?” Noah whispers to me, while passing back the stack of exams to the student behind him.
Great! I just earned myself freak status for at least the entire semester. I pass back my own pile then nervously fix my hair, patting it in place. “I’m so going to fail,” I admit.
Noah smirks, narrowing his perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Well, did you study?”
“Yes, I studied.” I snap back, a little snippy.
He reaches into his pocket and then places a closed fist over my desk. “Here,” he says, producing a ratty looking pink rubber eraser, with pencil holes and misshapen, smudged edges. “This is my lucky eraser. I think you need it more than I do.” His hand brushes mine. I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out.
A grumble comes from the back of the room, interrupting my momentary loss of consciousness. “Miss Page, Mr. Matheson, is there something I can help the two of you with?” Mr. Simon walks back up to the front of the class.
“Um, no. Sorry Mr. Simon,” I say, looking down at the eraser. This ugly old thing is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me.
“Nope, we’re all good. Sorry about that Mr. S.” Noah handles the rigid teacher with ease. I guess he does have the power to melt anyone who comes in his path.
Mr. Simon returns to his desk. “Okay then. You’ll have the entire period to complete the exam. Good luck, class.”
“Thank you.” I mouth to Noah, appreciatively, clutching onto the eraser.
Noah winks and then heads his paper, scribbling his name. “Good luck, Mia.”
He knows my name? How the hell am I supposed to concentrate now?
I muster up some magical trigonometry mojo and sail through the test. Maybe my studying paid off, maybe it’s the lucky eraser, maybe it’s the close proximity to lover boy over here, but whatever it is...I’m not so worried I failed anymore. At the end of the test I place Noah’s good luck charm back on his desk.
“So, how’d you do?” he asks.
I can’t help staring into his distracting Ireland green eyes. They almost look fake. “Pretty good, I think. How about you?”
“Considering that I really didn’t study and I didn’t have this,” he holds up the eraser again, “I think I did okay, too. I guess we’ll find out after he grades them. But if you did better than me, we’re going to have problems.” He scrunches his delectable mouth, making me wish I could lean over and touch it. No, scratch that, kiss it.
“Oh yeah, what kind of problems?” Is that flirting? I’m not sure, but I think it is.
Noah avoids the question and just laughs. His Adam’s apple vibrates under a thick, scrumptious neck. “You’re cool, Mia. If I had to flop a test for anyone, I’m glad it was you.” He gets up from his desk and drapes his backpack over his shoulder. “See you around?”
I can’t get up and follow him out, even though class is over and I’m free to go. This little exchange has left me weak in the knees and if I get up now, I’m not sure my legs will work properly. Plus, he thinks I’m cool...I don’t want to blow that impression just yet.
I give a pathetic wave and answer his question with, “Yup. See you around. Thanks again.”
He winks and then walks out of the classroom, disappearing into the sea of students swimming around the hallway.
Jesus, have I got it bad. This boy is going to break my heart.
“You do realize you’re talking about a rubber freaking eraser, right?” Grace is sprawled across my bed, flipping through Seventeen magazine.
“Grace, you don’t understand. We had a moment. It was a little moment, centered around the most ridiculously unromantic object, but it was still a moment.” I’m still giddy thinking about it.
“Well I think it’s super cool that he knows your name and thinks you’re cool. That’s definitely a start. But now how are you going to make him your boyfriend?”
I slump down on the bed next to her, smushing my head into my pillow. “I don’t know. But I hope I don’t have to wait too long. The tension is just insane. Like, I feel like I’m going to burst whenever he says my name. But I can’t make the first move, Grace. I don’t even know how to make a move. This is all so bizarre...last year I was a nerdy eighth grader who didn’t even care about boys. Now all I can think about is having my first kiss. It’s all I think about, all I dream about. Noah’s lips planted on mine. And if, by some miraculous twist of fate, it does happen, how will I even know what to do? When to open my mouth; what to do with my tongue; how to breathe through my nose?”